


Cross Paths

by MirabilisMage



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-12
Updated: 2011-09-12
Packaged: 2017-10-23 16:16:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/252328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirabilisMage/pseuds/MirabilisMage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Marian Hawke is away on the Deep Roads Expedition, Carver visits Merrill. “Goodbye” turns into something more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cross Paths

**Author's Note:**

> Rating: M for sexual situations (Carver/Merrill).

I was in the middle of making lunch when I heard a knock at the door. Lunch is always an ordeal: it is difficult to find the necessary ingredients within the alienage, and my substitutions have not always been successful. And company is always an ordeal, as there are few people who visit me, so I always worried a knock means bad news. But the only way to overcome either ordeal is to be bold, so I set down the ladle and answered the door.

Carver Hawke was probably the last person I expected. I mean, there are certainly people who would be more surprising, such as the queen of Antiva or a talking darkspawn. But of the people I could realistically expect to visit me (Marian Hawke, Isabela, Varric, another elf), well, Carver was not on that list.  
“Is everything alright?” I asked, letting him in.

He smiled. “I just wanted to say hi. Gamlen’s house is so close, yet I’ve never really been to visit. And it’s been so quiet with my sister away.”  
I nodded. Hawke had left for the Deep Roads a week before. Life was much less. . .tumultuous without her around.  
“I was just making lunch, if you’d like some. It’s a Dalish recipe, so you might not like it. But I’ve almost got this one perfected. It’s a roast and --”

“That sounds fine, Merrill.”

I cleared off a chair for him, then went back to the food. A roast baked in bread. A good way to use up odds and ends, a filling meal when waiting for the hunters to return. It’s difficult to find all of the spices, though, and sometimes I cannot find the right kind of meat. I made up plates for both of us and then joined Carver at the table.

“It’s nice to have you here. It’s been pretty lonely with Hawke and Varric gone. Maybe we should go on our own adventures? I bet Isabela could suggest something exciting to do. Though the last time I asked her, all she could talk about was hat shopping. That was fun, too. Dalish don’t really wear hats.”  
“Not even to keep the sun away?” he asked.

“No, there’s usually enough shade from the trees.”

I nervously ate my food. I knew I’d rambled too much. Both Hawkes had that effect. I could sense that Carver wanted to talk about something, an actual topic, but I was not clever enough to know how to ask. I asked the only question I could:  
“How do you like the food?”

“It’s not bad, Merrill. Better than what I’ve been eating lately.”

I smiled.

He finished his food and pushed his plate away. “I did – I did come here for a reason.”

I wasn’t sure if I should speak. Silence seemed wrong but I didn’t want to run on and on.

He looked down at his hands and finally blurted it out. “I’m going to join the Templars.”

“What? Are you sure? But what about Hawke? And – I’ll miss – we’re friends.”

He shook his hands. “I’m sorry, Merrill. And I promise, I won’t say anything about you or my sister. I’ll keep you both safe. But there’s no place for me here. I’ll always be Hawke’s little brother. If I’m a Templar, maybe I can become Ser Carver, and do some real good in the world.”  
“I don’t know what to say. I know it’s hard to feel alone in a group of people. But maybe there’s another way?”

He finally looked up, into my eyes. They are very blue, very sad. “I don’t think so. The Guard won’t take me. I don’t want to join the Chantry. I want to help people.”

I looked away. “When are you leaving?”

“Once Marian is back. It’s all settled. I just wanted to tell you personally. I’ll miss you. We’ve only known each other for a year, barely, but. . .I like you a lot.”

“Then you should stay! With us. Maybe I could talk to Hawke or Aveline, maybe. . .”

He stood up, moved to my side of the table, and placed his hands on mine. “Merrill, you know what it’s like, to have to follow your own path. That’s why I wanted to tell you, alone, away from the others.”

Carver was right, of course. I missed the Keeper very much, but I still had to leave her. “You’ll write me, sometimes? And maybe I could visit you. I could leave my staff at home.”

“I don’t think it would be safe for you to visit me. But I’m sure I could visit you. And I would be very happy to write and receive letters from you.”

I looked up at him, hoping he would not see my tears. I knew that Carver and Marian did not always get along. And sometimes he did not get along with Aveline, or Anders, or Fenris. . . . But there was something charming about him. Listening to him explain why he’s leaving, I realized that I always sensed in him a kindred spirit. Those around us have certain expectations for who we will be, but we have to find our own way.

Pulling my hands from his, I stood up. I hugged him, and whispered, “Make sure to keep yourself safe.”

Carver returned the hug, resting his head on my shoulder. “I really will miss you, Merrill.”

And then, even as we stood at a fork in a road, even as our lives diverged, we realized (I realized) we had this moment to share. Apostate mages and Templars lead very different lives, but for this one moment, we had everything in common.

As we moved apart, Carver looked into my eyes. He closed them slowly and took a breath and then leaned in, kissing me. And this kiss, this was no surprise. The surprise is that it had not happened before, or that there is no more time for it to happen again. I lean into his kiss, into his chest.

He broke away, shaking his head. “We shouldn’t be --”

“We – we probably shouldn’t. But I don’t think that matters right now, Carver. I’ve been lonely, you’ve been lonely. You are going on to great things, I think. And I will be here. And I’ll be lonely without you.” I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him.

I had not had much experience with kissing. There was never time for dalliances, there was always so much to learn, so much to study, so much to keep track of. In the alienage – well, the elves in the alienage understood me even less well than the clan. Carver kissed tentatively; he probably did not have much experience, either. Another way we were evenly matched.

“Merrill, can this be. . .our secret? Just for us? I’ve always had to share. . . .”

I smiled, and pressed my forehead to his. “Our secret. Just us.”

He chuckled and pulled tightly into his arms. I was used to keeping secrets; this was the first I would treasure. I squirmed out of his grasp and grabbed his hand, leading him to my tiny bedroom, my narrow bed.

We stretched out, side by side. I rested on my right side, Carver on his left. Humans have such awful terms for what it is we did. At least, the ones Isabela told me were awful. But I’m not sure what it is called in Elvehen. We kissed, we ran our hands – everywhere, back and front and side. Face, to shoulder, to chest, to waist. I have never realized the strength or the tension in Carver’s body, his muscles moving beneath my fingers. He arched his hips against me, and it felt like electricity in my belly.

Sitting up, I tugged at the hem of his shirt; with his assistance, we managed to get it over his head and off. He helped me with my tabard. I sighed as he left a trail of kisses from my neck to my chest to my breasts. He delicately sucked on one nipple, than the other. I ran my fingers through his hair, and when he came up for air, I decided to match him physically, sucking on his nipples. He gasped; he had not been expecting it. The nipple is tiny, yet full of promise.

I continued kissing down his stomach, down to the top of his breeches. I ran my hand over the cloth. He closed his eyes and let out a gasp.

“Should we take those off too?” I asked. He nodded, and soon the breeches and our small clothes joined the pile on the floor.

He furrowed his brows for a moment. “This part is. . . .” He looked lost for a moment. I was worried I had done something wrong, missed some cue. He shifted so that he was sitting fully on the bed. He tugged at my hip. “Can you – if you put your leg here --” He made a gesture in the air.

I laughed and shifted my legs, until they enfolded him and I was in his lap. I kissed him at the juncture of neck and shoulder; he dipped his hand between us, teasing at my center. I moaned as his fingers found the correct rhythm. Slow, then fast, less pressure, then more. I use my hand on him, and do my best to match his rhythm. I felt as if I was a river, flowing towards a waterfall, but before I could reach the precipice, he stopped.

Carver carefully removed my fingers, then guided himself to my entrance. We were one, were completely matched, we were. I clung to him as his thrusts push me over the edge; he soon joined me.

We panted as came down – I felt like I was floating. He rested his forehead on mind. “Thank you,” he whispered.

I hugged him close. “May the Dread Wolf never find you.”

I slowly disentangled myself from him and gathered up our clothes. We dressed quietly.

“Would you visit me before you leave?” I asked him.

Carver smiled. “I would like that.”


End file.
